


Feels Like We're Dreaming, We're Tripping And Reeling (I'll Show You My Shadows If You Show Yours)

by thegrumblingirl



Series: Why Don't You Save Me? (1 Million Celebration) [9]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Humor, Arguing, Character Development, Companionable Snark, Developing Relationship, Devotion, Explicit Sexual Content, Feelings Realization, M/M, POV Corvo Attano, Pining, Regret, Requited Unrequited Love, Self-Denial, Self-Destruction, corrupted bonecharms, god i love all of these tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 11:50:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21252929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrumblingirl/pseuds/thegrumblingirl
Summary: As Corvo settled down in his office, the clouds outside opened as if the skies were trying to drown the city in the Wren, as though Dunwall hadn’t been trying hard enough to drown itself in mud. He was meant to go through the day’s Watch and field reports, to find weaknesses in the Tower’s security and to decide which recruits to keep. As de facto Spymaster, although no official appointment had yet been made, it had fallen to him to cull the numbers of those who would be convicted of treason — and would have to be replaced. The hard part was learning to trust. And to choose.He had only just sorted out his desk when the Heart started beating faster against his chest. He removed her from his vest, still amazed at how he could carry it in a shirt and, somehow, no-one but those touched by the Void could see. And he was the only one, now.“What is it?” he asked, softly stroking the leathery skin of her vessel with his thumb. “Jess?”He’s here. Corvo. Why is he here?





	Feels Like We're Dreaming, We're Tripping And Reeling (I'll Show You My Shadows If You Show Yours)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BID](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BID/gifts).

> To celebrate posting 1 MILLION words on this here AO3, I [gave away ten request slots](https://screwtheprinceimtakingthehorse.tumblr.com/post/187537485520/grumbles-1-million-give-away) (all gone now). This is #9 — for BID.
> 
> Soundtrack: [You Belong To Me by Cat Pierce](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IR1Psd1wz5w).

As Corvo settled down in his office, the clouds outside opened as if the skies were trying to drown the city in the Wren, as though Dunwall hadn’t been trying hard enough to drown itself in mud. He was meant to go through the day’s Watch and field reports, to find weaknesses in the Tower’s security and to decide which recruits to keep. As _de facto_ Spymaster, although no official appointment had yet been made, it had fallen to him to cull the numbers of those who would be convicted of treason — and would have to be replaced. The hard part was learning to trust. And to choose.

He had only just sorted out his desk when the Heart started beating faster against his chest. He removed her from his vest, still amazed at how he could carry it in a shirt and, somehow, no-one but those touched by the Void could see. And he was the only one, now.

“What is it?” he asked, softly stroking the leathery skin of her vessel with his thumb. “Jess?”

_He’s here. Corvo. Why is he here?_

“Who? Who’s here, my love?”

_He! He’s here! Why is he here?_

Corvo struggled to calm her, murmuring to her. She kept repeating the same question over and over. Who could _possibly_ have come to the Tower to cause such a reaction — he _wanted_ to ask, but he sighed. There were hardly many possibilities.

It took him only minutes to find his coat and draw on his weapons belt. He left his office and started searching, the beat of the Heart louder as he moved up — shallow as he checked Emily’s quarters first, the Empress deeply asleep. He allowed himself a moment of relief.

He came to the stairs leading to the roof, and looked into the Void. He recognised that lone silhouette.

What was he doing here? Corvo had let him _go_.

As he stepped out onto the roof, lightning briefly turned the world to white, and a crack of thunder announced his arrival. Daud turned as if he knew the cue.

“What are you doing here?”

No answer. Corvo regarded him. He barely moved save for breathing in and out.

“Were you working up the courage to _knock_?” A nonsensical question. But the only one he had. Corvo wondered whether he should reach for his blade. But somehow he knew that Daud would not be the one to strike first. That he couldn’t be.

Daud still did not speak, and Corvo watched the rain run down his face. Immovable and dark. The shadows thrown were as deep as the sheets of steel still covering half of Dunwall. Corvo imagined they were just as cold.

“What do you want from me?” Corvo called against the wind. “Forgiveness? _Punishment?”_

“You owe me a fight,” Daud finally barked. His voice grated against the gust.

“You’re nine months late for that, assassin,” Corvo told him.

Daud cocked his head. He’d heard him. But he didn’t understand.

“I would have given you a fight that day, if you’d come alone,” Corvo continued. “But now? No. You got what you deserve.”

Daud’s eyes narrowed.

“To be forgotten,” Corvo drove the stake in through the heart. “Isn’t that what you want? To run? Don’t forget, _Knife_, I’ve read your diary.”

Daud took a step forward, now, his mouth twisted in anger. Corvo did not budge an inch. He was not afraid of him.

“You’re not worth my time, Daud. I’m not going to fight you. And I certainly don’t _owe you_ any more blood.”

Corvo meant to turn when, from below, the bloodcurdling blare of an alarm rang out. In a moment, he was by the edge of the rood.

Had Daud ever seen him Blink?

He heard Watch officers bellow orders. Gunshots.

“If this is your—“

“It’s not me,” Daud didn’t let him finish. His eyes were black with Void, searching.

Corvo believed him.

Immediately, he unclipped the mask from his belt. “You’d best be gone when I come back.” Then, he leapt from the edge of the roof, into nothing. He recognised the telltale hiss of a Whaler transversing behind him.

He should not have believed it would be that easy.

*

“Leave,” Corvo commanded his shadows when he made it back to the roof two hours later; after helping the Watch guards drive back the Hatters and leaving them to arrest the stragglers, to bring them to Coldridge for the Royal Protector to interrogate them in the morning. Corvo knew Daud was there. He’d felt him watching. Not interfering. Yet.

“These weren’t just Hatters looking for a score against Slackjaw,” Daud argued from behind him. “There’s more to this.”

Corvo wheeled around, and tore back his hood to take off the mask. “What business is it of yours?”

Daud averted his gaze.

“This is your last chance,” Corvo cautioned him. “Leave.”

“Or what?” Daud returned. “You’ll hunt me down?”

“Me? No, I don’t need to. I think that if this has told me anything about you,” Corvo said as he opened the door to the stairs, “is that you’ll deliver yourself to my blade quite willingly.” He stepped through the door, threw it shut, and locked it from the other side. When he looked into the Void, Daud was already gone.

*

Corvo suspected that Daud liked to imagine his surprise when, a month later, a knock on the window was followed by a boot on the floor and no pistol aimed at his head. Corvo’s head, that was.

Daud had halted, his hands up, the barrel of Corvo’s gun against his temple.

“Attano.”

“Why are you here?”

“I have information.”

“Looking to sell?”

“To trade.”

*

Daud challenged Corvo on everything, as if to do his best to incur his wrath. He was infuriating, irascible, and generally insolent. After a month, Corvo was ready to reconsider the matter of a duel. After two, he stopped wanting to take another shot at him. Not least because the information Daud kept bringing him was frightening him — and Daud did his best to make it seem sane. That was not the saving grace: it was that he did not expect gratitude.

Acolytes of Burrows’, working with the Hatters… that alone would have been enough to make Corvo’s hair stand on end. But when Daud brought him proof of a meeting that ended with a motion to dub themselves the _Regenters_…

“They’re going to be trouble,” said Daud one night. “If they go public with both their agenda and their accusations, you won’t be able to simply stamp them out. They’ll legitimise themselves, even to a public that _suffered_ under Burrows’ cruelty. They’ll find friends in Parliament.”

It was late, too late, and Corvo’s desk lamp was a long way from being turned down. Daud had drawn a brow when he’d found him still up.

“What were you going to do? Slip it under my pillow?” Corvo had gestured with the file he had brought with him.

Daud had tilted his head. “I do hope you _sleep_ with your windows locked.” He paused, and Corvo waited. “I would have left it at one of the guard stations, addressed to you,” he said as thought Corvo were being obstinate.

Corvo inspected the envelope. It _was_ sealed, and made out to him in a script that Corvo had learnt to read even in a rush.

“Open it, since you insist on ignoring the meaning of night and day,” Daud grated, and he sounded urgent enough for Corvo to disregard the barb. “Emily’s public appearances will have to be restricted; anyone who might sympathise with the Regenters are to be removed from her Council,” Daud was saying — ordering — while Corvo read.

Corvo sat up straight, fixing him with a glare. “Do not forget who you are, assassin,” he growled. “Bringing me information on the likes of you does not give you leave to dictate my responsibilities. Nor the state of Her Majesty’s government.”

“These imbeciles are not my ilk, Attano,” Daud returned angrily. “I have no kin, and certainly not them for a party.”

“Protestations of disdain are all well and good,” said Corvo.

“Would you like to hear protestations of loyalty instead?” Daud demanded, then scoffed. “As if they’d mean anything to you.”

“They may to the Crown,” Corvo said and enjoyed the empty look on Daud’s face.

“You told—her?” he asked, more quietly now.

“No. Not yet. Her trust is yet fragile in everyone but me. I have no wish to test it.”

“Won’t you test it more by admitting to a secret?”

“You are an informant, Daud, not a lover.” Corvo raised a sardonic brow. “A Spymaster is entitled to protecting your identity.”

Daud’s lip thinned further. “It was you who told me, just then, not to forget _who_ I am. No matter how useful I may be to you, I am her mother’s killer. She won’t see past that.”

“Not the way I do, you mean,” Corvo challenged.

Daud bristled. “When I came here, I pressed you for a fight. Don’t pretend to be doing me a kindness.”

“I did neither ask nor command you to stay,” Corvo reminded him, his temper slowly rising even as he felt puzzled at Daud’s argument. “I told you to leave, if you are so eager for my judgment.”

“I won’t leave while there’s a threat like this,” Daud insisted as though it was simple.

“As penance?” Corvo doubted he would ever understand.

“No.”

“Liar.”

Daud’s eyes darkened. “I’ve never lied to you, bodyguard. I _won’t_ lie to you. Neither about this, nor my past. You can ask your questions, which I may choose not to answer. But if I do, it will be the truth.”

“And from your silence I may infer what I like?”

“If you must.” Daud said it with such grim conviction.

Corvo was inclined to believe him this time, too.

*

It was another month later when Daud found Corvo at his desk, bleeding.

“What happened to you?” It was said so casually, but Daud was at his side in a step through the Void, grunting when Corvo turned away so he couldn’t see the wound.

“Stray shot from a Hatter. It’s only a graze.”

“And two inches to the right and you’d have lost a kidney,” Daud pointed out helpfully. “The Masked Felon is supposed to be invulnerable,” Daud continued with insistence that Corvo had not expected. “If the Hatters know they can make you bleed, they’ll try their damnedest to do it again.”

“Your concern is touching,” Corvo answered sarcastically.

“So will be your eulogy, I’m sure,” Daud rumbled in a huff, and Corvo couldn’t help it.

He turned out a small laugh.

“Oh Void, you’re smiling. You really are dying,” Daud baited him, in mocking alarm. But there remained a note in his voice that Corvo had not heard before. “Either that or the world is finally ending.”

“Hand me the gauze,” was all Corvo said in reply.

*

_He wishes not to see you hurt_, the Heart told him later that same night.

“I’m his insurance policy,” Corvo said, tired and reclining against the pillows. Daud had left over an hour ago, without leaving a report, only a bag of bonecharms Corvo ‘may find useful.’ “He’s played out and he knows it. He’s a shadow, a ghost. The Whalers are no longer his, and every other assassin in the city wants him gone.”

_But not you_.

“His information’s good.” He paused. “Let it be his punishment, if he wants it so much.”

The Heart fell silent, and Corvo tried not to debate only with himself Daud’s suggestion that they go on patrol together from now on. At least against the Hatters.

He’d think about it.

*

The Hatters — without the Geezer, without Trimble — were a nasty piece of work. Stride’s Eels had driven them out of Drapers Ward, but they had quickly burrowed, like bloodfly eggs, underneath the skin of the other districts. And now, they were putting the screws to the families of dock workers and miners instead of tailors. Nothing ever changed.

What was new, however, was that Daud refused to leave his side.

“The docks are a maze,” he’d argued, and Corvo had let him have it — for the moment.

And so they moved along the river, him with Daud practically glued to his shoulder. At a noise from their left, Daud's hand settled on Corvo’s elbow.

“The warehouses,” he whispered.

Corvo nodded. But—

“There’s too many to search. They’ll be gone by the time we’re through all of them. We need to split up.”

Daud was hardly subtle in his dislike of the idea, but he nodded. They parted, only for Daud to step after Corvo, and out of the corner of his eyes Corvo thought he saw Daud’s hand reach for him again; only for the movement to end with Daud pointing up at the Clocktower, still visible even from here.

“We meet back here in half an hour.”

“Alright.”

“Attano,” Daud said as he turned. “Don’t get cornered. It’s how you got shot last time.”

No-one should ever tell Daud anything. Corvo waved dismissively over his shoulder.

*

He found the shipment they’d been looking for — weapons. He also found several frightened civilians who had been forced to guard it, or blow up with it.

“I’ll help you,” Corvo whispered. To them, he was the man in the Mask, and they were likely as scared of him as of the Hatters. He’d get them out, and then find Daud to help destroy the shipment.

He disarmed the traps, freed the civilians and led them out and through the labyrinth of warehouses. The path was clear, until—

Until it wasn’t. They were boxed in, and Corvo had three innocents at his back.

“We have him dead to rights, boys,” one of the Hatters called with menacing glee.

Corvo unfolded his sword. He’d have to do this the old-fashioned way. He stepped forward, ready to fight, as the first Hatter cocked his pistol.

And then, a shadow descended from the sky, right in front of Corvo.

“You go through me, first.”

Daud.

With a new coat and his hood up, he looked different — but he was still the Knife. Everyone knew that scar. It would be fair to say that at least two of the Hatters nearly wet themselves. The third and fourth were down before they could utter a sound.

“Stay close to the River, keep North, there’s an unguarded gate, the district just behind. Go,” Corvo instructed the people he’d let out; and they ran for it, their eyes wide.

Daud returned to him, barely out of breath. “What did I tell you?” he had the gall to sound accusing.

Corvo, meanwhile, boggled at the recklessness just on display. “You need a mask!”

“And be mistaken for you? No thanks, Masked _Felon_.”

“No-one would ever think you were me. You’re too short.”

“You take that back.” Daud stepped close until his nose was almost touching Corvo’s… chin. Corvo was glad he was wearing his mask for all he wanted to grin _down_ at him. Daud’s eyes narrowed, as if he knew; and then he shoved him, hard enough to be felt through his armoured layers, in the chest. Before Corvo could say anything, Daud turned and stalked away.

“Watch will be here soon. Where’s the shipment?”

Corvo had no choice but to follow. And he had to wonder. As much of a pain Daud had proven himself to be, he had certainly never _touched_ Corvo to antagonise him. But perhaps… _some_ boundaries had been slipping?

*

Corvo thought so mainly because the next month Daud was very careful _not_ to touch him. It threw into sharp relief the many aborted movements Daud had made towards him in the past months and that Corvo had never paid any mind to.

Never paid any mind — alone, in the dark, with an assassin.

But Corvo knew he wouldn’t hurt him. Knew he would not dare. Why was he so sure?

Daud probably asked himself the same question every day.

But the Old Wolf had lost his lust for blood, if not his bark. And certainly he had never wanted Corvo’s.

And now sometimes he seemed as though he wanted to touch him — to get his attention, or when he stood next to him at his desk while Corvo sat and rolled his aching neck against the beginnings of a headache born of stubborn reading late into the night — only to divert the motion at the last second. As if conscious of himself and finding fault. Or finding fear.

But he had done it before. When Corvo had been hurt, Daud had helped him keep the dressing in place. When they were on patrol, Corvo let him tap his shoulder.

He had been letting him.

For months, Daud had become his shadow. Corvo didn’t know what to make of it. Until one night, weeks later, when they were out in the Distillery District; at the request of Slackjaw himself. Another of his men had gone missing. And Granny Rags’ body had never been recovered.

They were making their way down Endoria Street when there was a commotion behind them. It sounded like a fight. Without warning, Daud, walking just behind Corvo, set a hand low on his back and pushed him into the nearest doorway of a still abandoned building. With all fingers splayed, his hand felt large on Corvo’s back.

He bundled them both inside and closed the door behind them, leaning against it. Corvo could still see his face in the glare of the streetlamp, even through the grimy windows, not all of them boarded up. The quarantine had been lifted, now that there was a cure.

The loud boots and voices passed. They gave it another minute.

Then, Daud wanted to move out again, but Corvo had been searching for sounds as well as shapes in the Void, and there was something just at the edge of what he could sense. Instinctively, he reached for Daud’s arm and opposite shoulder and tugged him back.

Right into Corvo.

Daud went very still, but Could could _feel_ the intake of breath. Sharp. Daud’s back was to Corvo’s chest. Void, he was as wide as a tree.

The danger, it appeared, were merely a few stragglers, dock workers returning late from shift. It passed with them.

Corvo let Daud step away, who turned, looked up at him as if he couldn’t decide whether to spit with anger at this, too. But then Corvo saw Daud’s eyes catching where, if it were not for the mask, his mouth would be.

“Come on,” Daud said, and his voice was raw.

A leaden weight dropped into Corvo’s stomach. Curiously, his first instinct was not to have Daud shot.

Curious, indeed.

*

Corvo's surprise, however, was outweighed by fear and distrust rearing their heads. What if this was all a ploy — a play for favour, or merely a diversion? What if Daud meant to gain his trust, soften him up, to get at him, at the Empire, at Emily..? He had, on the face of it, no reason for suspicion — beyond the obvious. Daud was an assassin, and Corvo had _let him in_. Death was a good enough reason to do anything, but moreso was guilt. Remorse, perhaps, if Corvo judged the way Daud couldn't bear to move past the gazebo with his head unbowed with the right eye. Over the past Fugue, Corvo had gained a peculiar sort of certainty that Daud would neither hurt nor betray him. He would have had a thousand chances to stick a knife in his back, by now. But this...

This was so... _strange_. Unexpected, certainly, but most of all unfathomable.

But how to be certain? Corvo let it lie for a week, trying to put it out of his mind, but he found it eating away at him. It was, in the end, none of his business if Daud found him attractive. It was hardly relevant. It was tragic, in a way, if Corvo considered compassion. But he could feel no pity. Whether that was a kindness, he was not sure.

He remembered well Daud's promise. "I will not lie to you, bodyguard." Corvo _had_ asked him questions, since then, about the Whalers, about his past — always professional, never personal — and Daud had answered them all without evasion or deceit. If he asked him this, Corvo had no doubt he would speak honestly. Only, Corvo feared the answer.

And what would he ask him?

‘Are you trying to manipulate me by feigning an affair?’

Surely Daud did not believe that Corvo would ever _consider_... So a diversion it had to be, to distract Corvo with one hand from what the other was doing. But to what end? For all that Daud reported to him and they shared information — and Daud now even accompanied him on patrols — he had no real access to matters of state. Corvo neither confirmed nor denied whatever Daud brought him, and kept secret most of what he did as Spymaster, even where it pertained to the Regenters. Daud had to know that Corvo would never enter into such an arrangement. (And yet, he still hadn't shot him.) But what was the other question? Whether it was real.

‘Are you in love with me?’

Corvo's stomach turned as he considered this. What if Daud said yes — what if Corvo forced him into confessing by using his own vow against him, and took the last bit of dignity he had left? It sounded cruel. How, then, to probe; and without Daud suspecting he was searching for a reason to have him hanged, after all?

In the end, Daud obliged him by finding the subject himself.

"Lady Waterstone has been making eyes at you again," he rumbled while reading the Watch report Corvo had handed him about another incident involving the Hatters and the Bottle Street Gang the night before. (They had been at the other end of the city, watching the Regenters. Often Corvo wished for more men to dispatch. He had terminated the agents Burrows had left him, and building up new ranks had been slow, to say the least. He knew there was an option he had not explored, but he would not speak of it to Daud. Not yet.)

"Will you stop lurking in the throne room?" Corvo returned, but without much heat. Daud was forbidden from entering Council meetings, and Corvo had told him that if he ever found him at Parliament he would cast him out and have him hunted down like a rabid dog. That had been in the beginning, but now Corvo found he could not waver in his stance for want of being firm. And Daud had never tested those boundaries, much as he had given Corvo lip for it. But in the throne room, during public appearances, somehow Corvo did not mind knowing there was another pair of eyes. Watching. Only how Daud had never been spotted, with how close to the crowd he hovered sometimes, up on the chandeliers or even bookcases, Corvo could not hazard to guess. Undoubtedly the Void had a part to play in it.

"No," Daud returned obstinately enough. "What are you going to do about her?" He sounded sour.

Did he see in her a rival, Corvo wondered suddenly. Only, of what kind? Was she in the way of his machinations, or was he... jealous?

"What should I do about her?" Corvo asked, stalling for time so he might take care in choosing his words. This might be the only opportunity he had to draw something out of Daud to confirm his intentions.

"She's chasing your fly for influence," Daud said bluntly, and oh he sounded unhappy about it. The crude reference certainly did betray his annoyance. Before Corvo could challenge him, he continued, "It's undignified, and moreover she's bound to get in the way if you don't stop her. She has ties to Pemberton and Brockburn. She's at the far end of harmless, Corvo."

A sound pretence, Corvo would admit. If it was one, at that. He regarded Daud for a moment, the report in his own hand temporarily forgotten.

"That is what the advisors liked to tell Jessamine about me," he said at length — and it was true. "They suspected I was seducing her to advance my station."

Daud drew a brow. "What, beyond _Lord_ Protector?"

"They said I'd try to force her into marriage."

"By trailing after her like a love-sick puppy?" Daud scoffed. "Using love to get at a target is useless. Whoever would accuse you of that was an idiot."

Taken aback, Corvo hazarded: "Thank you?"

Daud waved a dismissive hand. "Once you let yourself get close, it's a race to see who betrays you first: your sense or your heart."

"Assuming you have one."

"Granted. But you had both and now your Empress has none."

Corvo bristled. "And what of you?"

Daud smiled, grimly. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"That's not an answer." _You said you would not lie._

"Find one that suits you," Daud said and leaned back in the chair across the desk. "Love, or lust, it doesn't matter. Lady Waterstone may well find you handsome. But she's a snake like the others, and it's too easy to see what she wants."

Daud was right. With her, it was only too obvious; the cold calculation in her alluring gaze unveiled. Corvo was struck, then, by the difference to Daud. Where she flirted, Daud shied away every time. Where she pushed, he restrained himself so tightly... it was in every single movement. If Corvo was _meant_ to notice his regard, then surely sometime he would have to act on it, to complete the diversion. And if that was the plan, and he didn't, then what might have betrayed him: his sense, or his own heart?

Corvo shook the thought, and asked instead, "So how would you do it?"

Daud's gaze snapped up. "Do what?"

"Gain my trust."

Daud raised his brow again. "I'd certainly not try to assure myself of your affection," he drawled, bemused. But then, his gaze shuttered, and he added, "Not anyone's, for the risk involved and for... my own nature. But certainly not you."

Corvo stared at him for a moment. It was not a lie. It could not be. And still, he had to know. "Your own nature?" he asked, willing his voice steady and low.

He saw in Daud's eyes that they were closing in on a line of questioning he might refuse to continue. But still he answered, "I am a killer, not a conman. I have no need for it, nor the capacity. How do you feign affection when you have not known it all your life?"

It was a question Corvo was not sure Daud was asking the answer to. "Did your Whalers not love you?" he yet dared. They had guarded their master devotedly that day. It had been difficult to slip past so many of them.

Now, Daud's lips did settle in a thin, cruel line. But the cruelty was not directed at Corvo so much as at himself. "We had no need for it."

"That's not an answer," Corvo said again, almost gently now.

Daud's gaze turned upon him, sharp. "Kindly do not look for one."

Corvo nodded, and leaned back. Still he could not hold this in: "You have a heart, Daud. Otherwise, you would not be here."

Daud sent him a punishing look. "If I had a heart, I would not need to be." _If I had a heart, your Empress would still be alive._

The conversation ended there, and shortly after Daud left Corvo to his own devices. He did not say when he'd return.

After a moment, Jessamine's voice stirred from the Void.

_There is no falsehood in his mind,_ she murmured sadly.

Startled, Corvo withdrew the Heart from his coat. She barely spoke anymore these days. And he had not dared ask _her_ for help in _this_. Albeit he'd had no doubt she knew.

_He does not lie. He does not think himself capable of love. His heart betrays him, not you. And he has accepted it as punishment._

"So he won't—"

_Not unless you allow him to. And he does not delude himself you ever will. He—_

"Stop." Corvo's throat was tight. "Stop. This is... this is wrong." He should not know any of this. If Daud's heart... stirred, for him, and he had accepted it as betrayal of his own nature, then Corvo should know no stake. He should ignore it. If Daud believed himself incapable of love, then this could not be what it was. It was gratitude, perhaps, born of regret and a blackened soul. It was Daud's burden to carry, with single-minded determination. And Corvo was sure the assassin would not falter. He never did.

Corvo should pay it no mind, he thought, the way Daud always seemed to point towards him like a compass needle. The way his hands itched towards Corvo when he was injured in the field, the way he refused to be attended to himself. The way Daud's jaw clenched when Corvo spoke of Emily, of Jessamine, of the past. The way he glowered when Corvo found himself the object of unwanted attention — or dismissal. The way Daud looked at him and never, ever took a step closer than what he perceived to be allowed.

He should ignore it.

*

One day, in his office, Daud stood by the shelves across the room, searching for a volume of Corvo's notes as per his instructions. They were talking as they would, in short phrases that made enough sense to them and that, when put together, made a map of the Regenters' possible ambitions and recent movements.

"Found it," Daud said. He reached for it, then stilled. "Shit."

"Daud?"

And then, the door opened on a knock. Geoff Curnow stepped inside. "I'm sorry, Corvo, but it's urgent."

“I—“

"We picked up a gang of Hatters just as they were trying to get into the sewers on Barrow Street."

Corvo, torn between the urgency of the news and Daud still standing, stock still, by the far wall, did not turn fast enough. Curnow saw him stare — and looked towards the shelves.

"Corvo? What's the matter? You seen a ghost?"

The hilarity of the question did not escape Corvo.

"No. No, I'm sorry, merely lost in thought. Go on."

Curnow crossed to the chairs front of the desk and sat down, papers in his hand.

Chancing a glance over his shoulder, Corvo saw that Daud had turned. He was staring, too. Then, he gestured towards the door to Corvo's ensuite. Before Corvo could so much as look confused, Daud snuck across the room on silent treads and vanished.

What?

*

When Curnow had gone, leaving Corvo worried and confused, he had immediately called for Daud. When there was no answer, he rounded the desk and made for the bathroom. "Daud!"

"Alright, alright, I heard you," Daud came calling back, carrying the file he'd been looking for when they were interrupted. "I was reading."

"What was that?" Corvo demanded, far more interested in Daud's peculiar behaviour than the circumstances of his records. "How did Curnow not see you? And why, when his back was turned, did you not simply transverse away?"

Daud waved a hand."No matter. I found—"

"Daud," Corvo interrupted him firmly. "Don't lie to me."

Daud looked up at him, stubborn as an ox. "It's not a lie, it doesn't _matter_." He made to push past Corvo.

Corvo had enough. He slammed his hand against the wall by Daud's head, blocking his path. Daud glared at him now, but did not move.

“Again. I block your way, you're not transversing. Why?"

"Corvo--"

"Are you injured? Did something happen? If something's wrong, how did you even get here? Is that why you were late?"

"Attano, stop prattling!" Daud commanded, vexed enough to raise his voice.

"Then speak!"

Daud made a guttural noise that might have been anything between frustration and murder. "I was late because I had to be careful about the Void."

"Why?" Corvo realised belatedly that he was still boxing Daud in, and let go of the wall and stepped back. Now that Daud was talking, there was no reason to stick to him like a bad coin. Daud looked a little less like a cornered hound.

"Can't you hear it?" Daud tapped one of the pouches on his belt, the one Corvo knew he kept bonecharms in, not usually wearing them on his belt. Concentrating, he could hear something beyond the usual hiss. Something different, more distorted. Daud opened the pouch and withdrew a charm — it was blackened, and smelt like rot, so badly Corvo nearly reared back.

"You're wearing a corrupted charm? Where did you get it?" And why had Corvo not sensed it before?

"Brigmore," Daud said curtly.

"What were you doing up there?"

"Another story. I found this there. It's a charm that renders me invisible, for as long as I stand completely still."

"And the drawback?"

Daud's jaw ticked in displeasure. "My connection to the Void is weakened. I need to drink more elixir to keep going. I didn't have enough with me on the way here. I don't usually take it just to see you."

Ah. "When?"

"When Emily holds court," Daud answered, visibly chafing against his own vow of telling him the truth. "When I watch you, I wear it so I can keep closer."

"If the object is to aid us in a fight, weakening your connection to the Void seems less than helpful," Corvo pointed out.

"I keep it where I can easily discard it, if it comes to that. And besides, even without the Void it takes six ordinary men to keep me down."

"And how many Whalers?"

"They won't come here." Daud's gaze was dark.

“They’re not yours anymore.”

“And they’re better off for it,” Daud returned, then shrugged. “This was unfortunate, but he didn’t see me. I’ll leave it next time.”

“But you’ll wear it again?”

“Of course.”

“You’re encumbering yourself with a bonecharm that weakens your abilities.”

“Only temporarily—“

“The cost of corrupted charms and runes is always greater than advertised,” Corvo cut in. “Why would you risk discovering what the cost is with something so volatile?”

"I'm here at all hours, _at your behest_, what do you want me to do?"

"You are not here at my behest. I never asked you to come back!” As a shadow crossed Daud’s face and he swiftly turned his expression blank, Corvo realised what he’d said. And although it was the truth, he knew where it had hit. "That's not—“

"No. You're right." Daud’s voice was low. “You never did. I’ve been useful, I hope?”

“Daud—“

“I’ve marked the pages. I should go.” He pressed the file into Corvo’s hands, and began to walk away.

“Let Samuel take you,” Corvo attempted to settle with his retreating back.

“I’ll be fine.”

Corvo blinked towards his desk, withdrew a vial of elixir from the uppermost drawer. “At least take—“ By the time he’d turned towards the window, it was open and Daud was gone. Corvo sighed.

He’d be back.

*

Only, he wasn’t.

A week passed and Corvo had only a report, smuggled into his correspondence, to show for it. He supposed if he had still needed convincing that Daud was not playing him for a fool, this would have been the proof: to vanish after being reminded that he was unwanted rather suggested an injured heart. At the very least, a bruised ego.

Corvo held still, not wanting to force the issue. What could he do? Send a letter? He barely knew more than that Daud lived somewhere in the Distillery District. Close enough, but still too much ground to cover on his own. Reaching out to his old second, Thomas, was out of the question. Corvo and what was left of the Whalers kept well out of each others’ way, and such were the rules.

“I told them to stop taking contracts,” Daud had told him at the beginning. “So you won’t have a reason to hunt them down.”

“They might disobey you yet,” Corvo had returned but Daud had shaken his head.

“I told Thomas if they do, I can’t hold you. And won’t. It’ll have to be enough.”

And it had been. Corvo was thankful for it. He had no desire to lead Daud into the Flooded District in a raid on his own people, or what had been. (And still he knew he’d come. Well. He was less certain of it now.)

For two weeks, Corvo struggled with what had happened — less Daud leaving than the words that had led to it. And the bonecharm…

Corrupted bits of bone were dangerous. Corvo had only ever touched a few of those things, and never worn a single one. Daud himself had warned him in no uncertain terms when they had found a cache of them in an old carver’s house once. And now, Corvo was supposed to be the reason that Daud put himself in danger? He ground his teeth as he sorted the day’s paperwork. Nothing from Daud, today, again. Corvo did his best to keep a handle on his irritation. It was _unprofessional_ and _unreliable_, for Void’s sake. He’d call it childish if not for the hurt implied.

He did not _miss_ him. That would be silly.

*

At least Daud had the decency not to skip out on their next scheduled patrol. Corvo had been out alone in the meantime, but he presumed that the agreement that Daud had wrestled from him — namely not to go into territory dominated by the Hatters alone — still held.

He presumed correctly.

“You’re late,” Daud observed when he appeared next to him.

“Only because you’ve been skulking around for ten minutes already,” Corvo returned blithely. Daud sent him a critical glance. “You always do that.”

Daud shrugged as if to say, ‘Fair.’

The movement called Corvo’s eye to something attached to his sleeve. Oh, _no_.

“And this is why,” Corvo growled, turning into Daud without a warning. Daud took a step back — nearly off the side of the roof — but froze when Corvo reached for him. The bonecharm. _That_ bonecharm. Corvo would recognise its song anywhere now. Daud cursed, and sidestepped Corvo. He ripped the charm of its leather band and stuffed it into a different pouch. One lined with oxbrush, Corvo presumed, which dampened the effects of excessive charms.

“Do you have enough elixir?” Corvo asked.

Daud glared at him. “Leave it.”

“Give me the charm.”

“Excuse me?”

“Give it to me. You’re using it too much.” Corvo felt something rise inside himself that felt too much like loss and fear. “Let me keep it.” He reached out again, for the pouch Daud had hidden it away in. Fast as lightning, Daud’s fingers clamped around his wrist, and held him still.

“Attano. Leave it,” he snarled, and Corvo took in a sharp breath. He had never seen Daud this angry. Before he could answer, Daud let go of him, pushing his hand away, and said, more composed but still visibly furious, “We have a job to do. The Hatters will thank us for hearing us argue three blocks away.” He turned, and walked towards the rooftop edge.

“You shouldn’t have it,” Corvo insisted. He was tired of watching Daud walk away as if he had something to prove.

“Better me than you,” Daud tossed over his shoulder.

Corvo snarled behind the mask. “You’re a piece of work,” he rumbled.

“I heard that.”

“And a _child_.”

Daud stopped abruptly and turned. “You done?”

Corvo gnashed his teeth. “Let’s go hunt some Hatters.”

*

The raid complete, Corvo had a feeling that Daud would _not_ accompany him back to the Tower. Besides, someone had to keep an eye on the Watch officers handling the arrests — Daud liked to leave nothing to chance.

“I’ll stay,” Daud said just then, and Corvo had no surprise to veil.

"Will you come to the Tower tomorrow?" he asked instead.

Daud let him wait. But eventually, he said, “Fine. Ten. After your meeting with Curnow.”

“Good.”

Daud cast him a look.

“I’ll go, then.”

Daud grunted.

*

Returning to the Tower, Corvo took his time removing his weapons and armour and clothes. He passed his desk, and his eyes caught on the report he had left out. It was Daud’s. On the off chance he’d come by and they could discuss some of the information therein, Corvo had kept it around. He passed the dresser on the journey back, with a tray and glasses. Should he fetch the whiskey — no, Daud would be here early. And he didn’t much like whiskey any time of day, anyway. Corvo shook his head at himself. How well did he really know Daud, then, to begin with? If he really came, in the morning, who would he be? Would it be as before, where months of work had finally brought them a sense of understanding? Or would it be as tonight, Daud prickly and caustic and _hurt_?

When Corvo went to bed, his thoughts wandered to the raid. He had watched Daud, for signs of exhaustion after still being exposed to the bonecharm. He had seemed fine, of course, that stubborn oaf. He’d fought three Hatters at once without one wrong turn, knowing exactly where they’d go and leaving them unconscious with barely a handful of strikes. Corvo wondered whether it would really take only six ordinary men to keep him down, and not rather a full dozen. He was fast and strong and the Void lent him grace that his build and strength did not betray at first glance.

Corvo turned on his pillow almost petulantly. He _knew_ why he’d been watching Daud. Because he worried. Because he’d _been_ worrying, ever since realising the reason for Daud’s… equanimity in the face of danger. The reason for his staying. Because now that he knew, it was all he could see.

Corvo had decided that he did not like to be that reason. A hot rush of shame flooded his chest and warmed his cheeks. To have these thoughts, for anyone, so soon. But for _Daud_. To not want to send him into exile for the mere hint of ambition. Only, it wasn’t ambition. He had no designs on Corvo. Merely a traitorous heart. Corvo was coming to understand now, that this was simply who Daud was. Forever yearning for what he could not have. Power. Freedom. Peace, perhaps. Love. Even from him. He wondered how long Daud had thought himself without a heart.

Daud knew about… her. Corvo had shown him, once, when looking for a shrine.

“It’s enough when a man’s a slave to his own heart. Much worse, another’s,” Daud’s words came back to him now. The Heart had been silent, and Daud had turned away. The shrine had been cold.

“What of a man who oversteps his bounds to satisfy a heart he does not have?” Corvo had returned, curious rather an accusing.

And if Daud had been playing with him, this would have been a warning. But Daud had barely glanced up and said, “Heartless men don’t strive to disguise their weakness.”

It came as no surprise that Corvo did not want Daud to be in constant danger, much less in danger of losing his hold on the Void. Nor was he surprised that he did not want him to _die_. What hit him with some shock, however, was that he did not want Daud to _leave_. To leave the world for the Void, to leave Dunwall. To leave him.

He had to get that charm.

*

Corvo did his best to fight his nerves the next morning. Daud was not one to go back on his word. He’d be there. (Corvo had been wrong about this before.) Ten o’clock on the dot, there was a noise at the window.

“Permission to enter the armoury?” Daud quipped. Corvo relaxed, if only by a fraction.

“Granted,” he answered, but nonetheless stood to meet Daud at the window. “How are you?”

Daud eyed him suspiciously. “Did you get shot yesterday?”

“No.”

“Neither did I. Leave it abed.” Daud moved past him, towards the desk; but instead of leaning against it as he’d done before, he went to the shelves behind it.

The back of Corvo’s neck prickled. He was calling him out. _Daring_ him to do something. What, Corvo did not know. What was Daud expecting? He decided to follow. Rather than sit, however, he went to lean against the desk himself, to face Daud and see him. He watched him, for a moment.

“Please give me the bonecharm.”

“Corvo, not _again_—“

“I said please.”

“Good for you,” Daud returned reticently. But Corvo could see the flicker in his eyes.

“Daud, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” Corvo knew that honesty was the only recourse now.

“It’s a bonecharm, Corvo. What more damage can it do?”

“More damage than what?”

Daud averted his gaze. A shiver tickled up Corvo’s spine. He waited, but Daud did not speak.

Casting about, he began, “Daud, I—“

“Fine.”

“What?”

“You can have it. But on one condition.”

“Name it.”

“You do not wear it. Destroy it, if you have to.”

“You said it was _practical_,” Corvo challenged, more for the principle of it.

“Corvo. I will not have you wear it.” Daud’s tone was grave, and his eyes sincere. Corvo might have laughed. He worried _just as much_.

“It could have killed you,” Corvo took half a step forward.

Daud forced his expression blank, he could tell. “I’ve already taken up enough of your time.”

Corvo’s heart sank. “Don’t say that,” he near murmured.

“What else would you have me do?” Daud asked. He asked in _earnest_. “Except to die?”

From one moment to the next, Corvo burst with terrible certainty. “You are _not_ to die,” he ordered. He advanced another step.

“And what’s to keep me?” Daud returned.

“_Me._” And without another word, Corvo had grasped Daud by the collar, pushed him up against the wall, and bent down to meet his gaze. “You fool.”

“A fool for you,” Daud said in a broken voice. A sliver of panic in his eyes.

“Mmh,” Corvo hummed. And then, he let a kiss find the bow of Daud’s upper lip. He nipped lower, discovering the curve of his mouth. First a solid press, a teasing brush of lips and then tongue; the length of coaxing it took to open him up and steal his breath in full. Daud groaned deep in his throat and pushed, but Corvo used his bulk to press him back into the wall. One of Daud’s hands came up to fist in his coat, and the other followed their desire to come to rest on the back of Corvo’s neck, angling him, holding on, _keeping him_. A promise, a demand, a question. One that Corvo answered with his whole body, rolling his hips and throwing caution to the wind. His touch found Daud’s cheek, light at first then bruising when Daud bit his bottom lip for a reaction. He got it, Corvo licking into his mouth and running the other hand from collar to waist to hip, to grip and strain against crushing him in his grasp. Besides, he had another target.

Daud’s breaths came short and wild against his cheek, and when Corvo wrenched himself away and stepped back, Daud still holding on but slacking with Corvo’s insistence, Corvo drew his gaze down to his hand. Daud’s eyes, more black than grey and dark with want, widened. “You bastard—“

Corvo dropped the stolen charm on the ground and, with one grim step, crushed it under his heel.

“You dirty pickpocket,” Daud rumbled, his voice rough with _something_. It was more than lust, and less than rage.

Corvo ignored the accusation. It was true, to start. “I may have never asked you to stay. But you have been... welcome. Daud, I—“

Before Corvo could finish, Daud had slid his fingers into Corvo’s hair, tangling and pulling, and used a hand palming his waist to draw him back against him.

“Enough,” he rasped, and Corvo watched as he decided his first line of attack. It was a nip on his jaw, Daud tilting back his head, Corvo reminded of indignant sputter and _protectiveness_, and then Daud claimed his mouth, breathless moan and all, without a care given for the meaning of the word chaste. Nor shyness, for that matter, as Daud met him again, open and hot and demanding. Corvo’s breath left him in a rush, and he sought to fold himself into Daud without refrain.

They’d had to tear themselves away eventually. Such was the danger of giving into carnal desires before noon — too many interruptions. Daud had parted from him with a kiss, deep enough to draw Corvo back into his spell, and a promise to return with nightfall. Corvo had nodded, reluctant to speak, and let him go. Hoping, with all he had, that he truly would return.

But once night came, so did Daud. They met at the window, Corvo already on him before Daud had quite set himself from sill to carpet, and what followed was something two years in the making. Corvo fastened his teeth to Daud’s neck, then his lips and sucked, and Daud growled low in his chest, his palms sliding up Corvo’s shoulders. He wanted him closer, so much was clear.

And closer he got. Corvo suspected both their recollections of the night were hazy, broken memories rather than a stream of conscious remembering. When he woke in the early hours, he remembered the arch of Daud’s back underneath him, the desperate grasp of his hands, drawing Corvo down and closer and against him. Daud’s whimpers turned to screams, muffled in the pillows, and the buck of his hips nearly driving Corvo out of him. Daud ground himself into the bed, seeking release and finding friction good as burning; until Corvo gentled him and drew him up, enough room for a hand to slide underneath him and take him up. Daud had mewled into his ear, far gone enough not to care what sounds he made; but Corvo cared. He wanted to know them, now.

“_Nire arima,_” Daud choked on a thrust that received no parry, and Corvo almost faltered in his rhythm.

When they were both close, Corvo let go of his cock, earning a grunt of protest and then of lust when he gripped his chin instead, drawing his head back into Corvo’s shoulder, bending him back until he was taut as a bow against him, rocking with the force of Corvo’s thrusts.

“_Jarraitu_,” he murmured into Daud’s ear. “Go on.”

Daud groaned and shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Come on. Like this, untouched.”

“Hardly untouched,” Daud returned with spark, and Corvo tightened his grip.

“Come, Daud,” he growled, and Daud bared his teeth. “There’ll be more time later.” He snapped his hips ruthlessly.

“Fu-uck,” Daud punched out, screwing his eyes shut. Corvo leaned down to bite his shoulder. There would be more, with time.

**Author's Note:**

> the prompt was: "I'm not going to fight you, okay? Just go home already." or "Did you just smile? Oh Void this is the end of the world..." (bonus points if it's Daud who says it) (extra bonus if it isn't established relationship??)
> 
> * Nire arima is Basque and means "my soul"  
** Jarraitu is Basque and means, "go on"


End file.
